


Biological Imperative

by heeroluva



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Biology, Egg Laying, Other, Xeno, self-fucking, tentacle cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-25 05:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14371770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Biology waits for no one.





	Biological Imperative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falsechaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsechaos/gifts).



Feeling a familiar stirring in his groin, Garrus checks the date on his visor and groans. They’ve been so busy with cleanup that he’d lost track of the days. Now is so not the time for this, but biology waits for no one.

Making sure the door to his quarters is securely locked, Garrus doesn’t waste time and pops open the seals on his armor, quickly stripping out of first it then his body suit. Letting the pieces drop to the floor, he’ll be annoyed about the mess later, but now he has more important matters to attend to. Already he can feel his vent spreading open, fluid trickling down his thighs.

First grabbing a large bowl from the kitchen before sinking down onto the couch, Garrus makes a nest of pillows to support him. Sliding his hands down his body, talons scraping along the sensitive skin between his plating, Garrus shivers when his fingers finally sink into his vent. The shivers turn into full a full body shudder when his hands find his tentacles and encourage them to venture out. The largest is already slipping downward, pressing into him.

Garrus jerks and hisses as he’s stretched so suddenly, laughing softly as the rest of his tentacles get the memo and fight to fit within him. Without a partner his eggs won’t be viable, but there’s nothing to say he can’t have a little fun with himself.

The sensation of Garrus’ own tentacles fucking into him, curling around each other, his own muscles clenching down around him never gets old.

Garrus’s dual-toned trill is high and long as his tentacles swell, and then he’s coming, filling himself to overflowing. When his tentacles retreat he moves the bowl into position, beneath him. One hand weaves through his tentacles, the strands wrapping around his fingers, the other rising to caress his narrow waist.

A rumbling warble escapes Garrus’ chest as the first egg starts to shift down, stretching him wider than his tentacles. He falls into a trance of sorts, brain flooding with endorphins to mask the pain. The first egg is often the smallest and thus the easiest, as appears to be the case today. By the fifth egg, Garrus is panting, certain he’s never had such a large clutch.

By the eleventh egg, his vent is soaked with seed and lubricant, body straining to pass the largest egg he’s ever had. With a screech from Garrus, the egg finally joins the others in the bowl, and his tentacles ooze what little seed was left in his testicles as one last orgasm washes through him.

The last thing Garrus wants to do is move, but he really doesn’t want to have to clean up his mess after it dries, being significantly easier to wash his vent in it’s entirety when he is still floating on endorphins.

Enjoying the hot spray of the multiple shower heads, Garrus lets himself sink to the ground. He’d needed this.

Later he’ll worry about the cleanup effort. For now he’ll enjoy the moment.


End file.
